


Look, It's Like This...I Like You

by Pixiepeekboo



Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, The 100 - Freeform, sleepover, slumberparty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiepeekboo/pseuds/Pixiepeekboo
Summary: The Blakes have a tradition where they invite over the group during thunderstorms for games and junk food. But Clarke has Bellamy feeling some type of way and it becomes increasingly difficult for him to clamp down his feelings for her.
Relationships: Bellarke - Relationship
Comments: 27
Kudos: 102





	1. Are You Lightning? Because Every Time We Touch, I'm Filled with Electricity

“It’s tradition,” Bellamy said. He had the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder while he chopped garlic for the homemade salsa. The thunderstorm outside shook the house, as if for emphasis.  
Octavia poked her head around the corner. “Is Clarke on her way yet?” she asked. “Everyone’s getting bored. We’re going to start without her.”  
The rest of the group - Murphy, Emori, Jasper, Raven, Monty, Harper, and Lincoln – chimed in agreement with Octavia. Sometimes, Bellamy didn’t like being the dad of the group. “She just got out of class, O. Give her time. She shouldn’t be speeding in this storm, anyway. You shouldn’t be speeding, Clarke,” he repeated into the phone.  
Clarke snorted. She had him on speaker while she drove.  
“Bellamy,” she said, “Blake. I don’t speed. Also, tell O not to worry; I’m pulling into the driveway now. Let the games begin.” She gave a medieval, Sorcerer’s cackle before hanging up. Bellamy smiled to himself, forgetting that Octavia was still hanging around the corner. He glanced up and found her grinning evilly at him.  
“Ooh, big brother, you’ve got it bad,” she sang.  
He would have thrown the bowl at her if it wasn’t already full of salsa and knowing that the red sauce would be hell to clean out of the grout. “I do not,” he growled. “This is Clarke we’re talking about.”  
She arched her eyebrow at him, grin widening further. “I know you’re ancient and out of the loop,” Octavia said, “but this is a classic example of enemies to friends to lovers.”  
“Octavia!” He dropped the knife and phone against the countertop and lunged for her. She squealed and fled to the living room where the rest of the group was.  
“Please don’t murder my girlfriend,” Lincoln said as Octavia dropped in his lap for protection. “She’s too young to die.”  
“Also,” Murphy piped up, “not that we were eavesdropping or anything, but we couldn’t help overhearing that you have some feelings for Clarke, and I just wanted you to know that we as a group approve and you have our consent to date Mom.”  
Bellamy really wished he wasn’t the dad of the group. “She’s not your mother,” he told them. They smiled, tolerating but not agreeing, the statement. Behind him, the front door opened and Clarke’s mantra – a string of swear words more complicated than an algebraic equation – flooded the entryway. The rain poured in with her and completely soaked the front mat.  
“Are you all right?” Bellamy asked, crossing the room to help her. She was grappling with her jacket, which was completely plastered to her skin.  
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Here, hold this.” She shoved a pan of lasagna at him and kicked out of her boots.  
“Do you want to borrow some dry clothes?” he asked.  
Behind him, the group was quiet, watching everything unfold with fascinated amusement. Bellamy’s cheeks warmed slightly. It was ridiculous. They just wanted to push the two of them together because they’d been best friends for as long as he could remember, and they’d always been the most sensible of them: the parents, the ones everyone else came to when they needed help. And while it was true, Bellamy might have a teeny tiny infinitesimal crush on Clarke, she left a trail of broken, bloodied hearts behind her wherever she went. He didn’t want to be added to them. Also, he didn’t think she was interested in him that way.  
“Sure,” Clarke said. She glanced past him at the group. “Why’s everyone being so quiet?”  
“We’re not,” Raven said. “We’re patiently waiting to start our game. Hustle up, Griffin.”  
Bellamy carried the lasagna into the kitchen then had Clarke follow him down the hall to his bedroom. He would have offered some of Octavia’s clothes, but she didn’t have anything in her closet left here that Clarke would wear. He tugged down a shirt, sweater, and sweatpants from the closet and handed them over to Clarke.  
“I think those should fit all right. They’ll probably be a little big, but...”  
“These will be fine, Bellamy.” She closed the bedroom door.  
He moved over to the bed, flopping onto his back and flinging his arms over his face while she changed. It occurred to him that maybe this wasn’t what friends did. He cracked open an eye, half raising himself from the bed to ask if she thought he should leave the room. Clarke had managed to wrestle out of her pants and shirt, and was tugging his sweater over her head. A strange, warm feeling poured through him. He sank down against the bed and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.  
“So, are you going to tell me what you all were arguing about before I got here or are you going to leave me in suspense?” Clarke’s voice always made him think of smoke. It was hazy and soft and often had the ability to put him in a trance.  
Bellamy shook his head against the mattress. “Nothing important. Are you ready?”  
In response, she sprang onto the mattress and bounced him against it. Bellamy’s eyes flew open. He laughed. “Hey!” Tackling her legs, he knocked her off her feet onto the blankets and rolled her into the pillows.  
“If you’re done necking in there,” Jasper hollered, “Would you mind coming out so we can enjoy our game and not be uncomfortable?”  
Clarke wriggled underneath Bellamy. “Who the fuck says necking?” she yelled back. She giggled and looked up at Bellamy. “Who says necking?” she repeated to him. She grabbed at his neck, and then arched her hips off the bed lifting herself until her stomach and waist were flush against him. “Do you know what that word makes me think of?” she asked. “It makes me think of people rubbing their necks together. Not lips. Like this.” She brought her neck against his and twisted her body closer until they were a little tangled and a lot electric. Static buzzed between them.  
Bellamy could think of a few things that this position made him think of and all of them were dirty. “Clarke!” He yelped, pulling back as she burst into peals of laughter. He carefully rolled away from her so she wouldn’t tell he was trembling with want and headed for the door. “Come on,” he said, opening it and gesturing for her to go through first. “Otherwise they’re going to start a riot.”  
She bounced off the bed. “Okay, fine. But your bed is so comfortable. I just want to sleep.”  
For the first time, he noticed the fit of his clothes on her. The way the sweatpants pooled at her feet. How the sweater hung down to her knees. The shape of her body beneath them. He never really thought about how much taller than her he was. He smiled. “Let’s go, Princess.”  
She stuck out her tongue at him. “I thought we agreed to drop that ridiculous nickname,” she said.  
“Please,” he said, “as if I’d ever agree to that.”


	2. Draw Closer to Me...and Also Draw Four Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group begins their traditional games like usual, only this time, they seem to have a plan to get Bellamy and Clarke to admit their feelings for each other. Panicked!Bellamy and Oblivious!Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are at Chapter two! Yahoo! Not sure how many chapters I plan on doing at this point. But I'm having a lot of fun with this so far and I hope you like reading as much as I like writing it! :)

Clarke took charge as soon as they reached the living room. 

Everyone was ordered to sit in a circle while she fished inside the game box. Per tradition guidelines, every session’s fate was decided by UNO; whoever won got to choose what they did next, and it could be anything – there was no pride or reservations amongst them. Of course, it had to fall under the category of Appropriate Games to Play during Thunderstorms that Clarke and Bellamy had devised (said list was posted on the Living Room wall, in case any of them ever needed reminders. There were benefits to being the parents of the group).

Clarke dumped the deck of UNO cards in Bellamy’s lap and ordered him to shuffle while she got herself a drink.

“Why’d you even grab them if you aren’t going to be dealer?” Murphy said, casting a sly look at Clarke as she returned from the kitchen. She chewed on her bendy straw before answering, watching as Bellamy dealt the cards with a flourish.

“He has good hands for the job,” she finally said, then kicked him in the thigh. “Scoot over.”

Titters went around the circle.

“Ooh,” Jasper sang. “She thinks you have nice hands, Bellamy.”

"You know what they say about hands - the longer the fingers, the bigger the d -"

“Ew,” Octavia shrieked. “Please don’t. This is my brother you’re talking about.”

Bellamy gave a long suffering sigh.

Raven snickered. “You all have such dirty minds.” She sorted her cards in her hand and smirked over the edge of them at Bellamy and Clarke.

“What?” Clarke said. “I won’t apologize. He does have nice hands. Look at them. Also, Bell, you gave me terrible cards. Look at these. How am I supposed to triumph over everyone if you give me these measly things? What do you have?” She leaned against his side, peeking at his cards. He snatched them away.

“Quit peeking!”

“Do you want to trade?” she asked. “I see some lovely little draw fours in there, and really, I’ll put them to much better use.”

He held them out of her reach. “By using them on me? I don’t think so. Keep your cards, Princess.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. She stuck out her tongue at him, and the sight of it sent something pained and wonderful through him. He shifted away from her slightly.

The rest of the group had grins eating their faces. Emori even had her phone in one hand, recording evidence for later, whenever they tried to tell the others that they weren’t dating and didn’t have any plans to: they were just friends.

“Okay,” Bellamy said, heart leaping into his throat when Clarke placed a hand on his thigh to pull herself closer to him. He glanced down at her.

“Hold on,” she said, “I’m not comfortable.” She knocked his knees apart with an elbow and settled herself between them, using his chest as a backrest. She snuggled so close to him they practically became one person. His panic burst into flames beneath his skin.

“Okay,” she said, “Don’t look at my cards, Bellamy. Let’s do this.”

Because Monty was sitting to Bellamy’s left, he got to go first, and he gave Jasper, on his other side, a wicked grin as he slapped down a Draw Two to start the game.

Within minutes, there was a boisterous war amongst them. Cards were flung and names were called. Everyone ganged up on whoever had a momentary advantage. They went through the entire deck twice until Jasper won the game. The group howled with disappointment while he laughed and rubbed his hands together, gleeful.

Outside, the storm turned even more violent; it throttled the windows, lightning flashing through the curtains every few minutes. 

Clarke had her drink cradled between her hands. Bellamy reached around her. “I’m thirsty,” he said, snatching it before she could protest. He drank and nearly spat it out again. 

“Disgusting! What is that?” 

She yanked it back from him. 

“Hurry up and pick something already,” Murphy said. “Before we become gnarled old people like Clarke and Bellamy.”

Clarke aimed her drink at him as though it were a weapon. “Hey!” she said. “I am not that much older than you are. Bellamy here is the old man!”

“Eureka!” Jasper said so loudly that everyone stopped arguing. “I know just the thing. We haven’t done it in forever!”

“Oh, boy,” Harper muttered.

Jasper scrambled over to the game box and withdrew the dreaded Twister game. He spread it out and tossed it over their heads.

“Do we have to?” Monty asked, glancing around the circle.

“It’s Tradition,” Octavia said, a tad smug, and then gave a nod at Bellamy and Clarke that didn’t even attempt to be subtle.

The two teams were selected via rounds of Rock Paper Scissors, ending with Bellamy and Murphy versus Clarke and Raven. (Bellamy thought it seemed awfully construed) Everyone else was to be the panel of judges, while Jasper would call out the moves and control the music. If anyone fell out of position or moved when the music wasn’t playing, they had to obey one dare voted by the group that complied with the Appropriate Games to Play During Thunderstorms list.

Bellamy caught Clarke’s eyes across the spread out plastic sheet. She shaped her forefinger and thumb in an L and aimed it at him. Her hands, in his opinion, were nicer than his. Nicer than anyone’s in the room, actually. They were artist’s hands, with slender, elegant fingers, always stained with ink or paint, always a story etched into her skin of something abstract she’d pulled from her head and brought to life.

Murphy nudged his side with an elbow. “You’re staring,” he said. “I hope that means that you’re focusing, because I’ll never live it down if Raven and Clarke beat us.”

Bellamy was about to respond when he noticed Jasper’s expression. Oh, boy. They were in trouble.


	3. Are You a Rope? Because My Heartstrings are Knotted with Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The games continue at the Blake residence, with Raven and Clarke teamed up against Murphy and Bellamy in a game of Twister. Losers have to play a game of Truth or Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveth me for my terrible, corny chapter titles. I honestly can't resist LOL
> 
> Here's to chapter three of Bellamy pining like a sad puppy for Oblivious!Clarke

Bellamy Blake was ninety-nine percent sure the group was doing this on purpose. The game was being manipulated, he could see it, but by the time it occurred to him to call them out on it, he was completely intertwined with three other people.

The game started with Clarke. She was voted by the Judge Panel consisting of Monty, Octavia, Lincoln, Harper, and Emori, to go first, the way Royalty is supposed to. Jasper flicked a seemingly careless finger against the dial, letting the arrow spin across the options of colors and body parts to make a selection. Using his Announcer voice, he told her to step on blue. With his phone, he serenaded them with some pulpy rock music. She planted her foot on one of the primary-colored circles and waggled her eyebrows at Bellamy. Behind her, Raven did some sort of victory dance, although, as Murphy pointed out, Clarke placing a foot on the Twister mat didn’t amount to triumph.

Bellamy was voted next. He arched his eyebrows at the Judge Panel carefully avoiding eye contact with him. Octavia booed.

“Come on, ladies. Don’t let those imbeciles beat you!” She shook her fists at them. Lincoln cheered behind her.

Bellamy placed his hand on a circle on the other edge of the mat from Clarke. He considered the angles and decided it was safest to start farther away from her. The last thing he wanted to go was get the two of them tangled together. Though that probably defeated the purpose of the game. He glanced sideways, smirking to himself when the Judge Panel couldn't conceal their disappointment.

Limb by limb, player by player, they slowly contorted and twisted themselves over the mat, until, somehow, Raven was doing a backbend, and Murphy was stretched out between her arms and under Bellamy's legs, and Clarke was hunched over them. Bellamy stood diagonally across the corner, his arms and legs looped through Clarke’s, somehow, or maybe that was Murphy, but it was getting to the point where no one was going to be able to move another fraction of an inch.

Clarke was so close to him that when she huffed a laugh against his stomach, the heat of it soaked through his shirt and nearly turned his body to gelatin. He teetered backward.

“Don’t fall,” Murphy yelped. “We have got to win this thing. Also, you'd probably flatten me like roadkill. It’s your turn, Raven,” he added, “Hurry up already.”

“Being a genius isn’t easy,” she shot back, tipping to her side, almost turning herself into a pretzel and placing her elbow on the edge of a yellow circle. “Oof,” she said. “You know what, I just realized I’m really hungry. Your turn, Murphy. Why don’t you lose so I can eat something?”

“In your dreams,” Murphy replied and obeyed the instructions Jasper dictated. The movement seemed to free up the space between Bellamy and Clarke, or maybe it was like origami, and they’d merely folded the edges of their bodies to give the appearance of more space.

Bellamy leaned his head back with a groan. “Is it over yet?”

Octavia whooped. “Ooh, are you giving up, Bell? Because, you know what that means. Truth or Dare,” she sang.

He examined the Judge Panel. Harper leaned forward expectantly. Even Lincoln looked excited by the prospect. That’s probably what they wanted. He shuddered to think of what diabolical scenario they had planned for it.

"I think I'll pass," he said.

“Clarke,” Jasper announced, “Knee on...red.” 

Monty beat his heads against his legs in a drum roll.

Clarke tossed back her hair. Or, tried to. It sort of fanned down in front of her face. She gingerly eased her knee forward. “Oh, man,” she huffed, “I really need to do some yoga. Motherf-,”  
“Language, Princess,” Bellamy said, out of habit. She grinned through her hair at him.

“Fudge,” she finished. Her knee barely reached the circle. However, Bellamy didn’t really notice that because he’d realized that she was millimeters away from his waist, laughing and he hated to be that person but he froze at the sight of her like that. So close and obtainable and happy and carefree. In his clothes. In his house. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. It was only with an effort that he reminded himself that they were friends, and furthermore, they were surrounded by young people who looked up to them, and the slightest sign of weakness would send them descending on him like piranhas on bleeding prey.

Convinced he was in control, he looked down at Clarke, practically between his legs.

“Earth to Bellamy,” Octavia said. “Come in, Bellamy. Do you read me?”

His eyes snapped over to Jasper. “Sorry,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse. Get it together, Bell, he told himself. “What did you say, Jasper?”

The group must practice this; they had to collectively meet each other and practice this evil, discerning grin because they were so damn good at dishing it out. Jasper repeated the move, wearing the wicked smile, which left Bellamy contemplating his life decisions, but also bending sideways to rest his hip against a circle, removing his waist from proximity with Clarke’s head but now coming face to face with her instead.  
He blew at the hair dangling in her face.

“Stop that!” Clarke giggled. “It tickles!”

“Hold up, everyone,” Raven said, “It’s my turn, and -”

Clarke flinched away from Bellamy; he'd leaned closer to bump his nose against hers. Unfortunately for Murphy, underneath everyone, the movenent had a domino effect, and all four of them collapsed in a heap.

“Clarke,” Raven wailed. “You just made us lose to Murphy!”

“Bellamy’s fault,” Clarke said, like a reflex. She lunged out from the tangled web of arms and legs and tackled Bellamy to the floor. He was still trying to find his legs in the mess of bodies and was effectively stuck. She went straight for his weak spot on his side and tickled him.

“This is what you get for making us lose!” she cried.

Bellamy laughed helplessly. “Get away, you urchin,” he said, pushing at her with limp arms. “We beat you fair and square.”

“Oh, yeah? What does the Panel of Judges say? What do you say?” she asked, lifting her head to look at them. Murphy finally lifted himself from the mat, freeing Bellamy’s legs. He sprang upward and caught Clarke around the waist, hauling her off her feet and flipping her over his shoulder.

“Murphamy is the winner,” they roared back at her. “Princess Mechanic loses!”

“Haha,” Murphy pointed finger guns at Raven. “Burn!”

“And you know what this means,” Jasper said, in his Announcer voice.

Clarke thumped her fists against Bellamy’s spine. “Okay, fine, Bell, I yield, you won. You can put me down now.”

He actually had half a mind to carry her off to his bedroom and lock the two of them inside so they could play Twister alone. But he didn’t. He had to keep reminding himself that she’d had three disastrous relationships in less than two years, and was still recovering from the break-up with her last girlfriend. The last thing she needed was for him to be admitting his feelings to her. Especially at a traditional Thunderstorm Party. This was only a crush.

Bellamy lowered Clarke to the floor. She punched him in the arm. “Cheater,” she said, beaming up at him.

Only a crush, Bellamy repeated to himself.

“All right Griffin and Reyes,” Harper said, shimmying to her feet. “Truth or dare.”

They exchanged a look.

“Dare,” Raven said, drawing it out so it sounded less like a statement and more like a question.

“Do we trust these savages enough to do dare?” Clarke asked.

Someone, Bellamy suspected Lincoln, lobbed a pillow at her face.

Raven shrugged. “Anything besides the truth.”


	4. Truths Revealed through Daring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln dishes out the Dares voted by the Judge Panel to Raven and Clarke. Things are about to get a little...revealing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. This is probably my favorite chapter so far. Can't wait to hear your thoughts! <3

“Raven,” Lincoln said, the official spokesperson for the Judge Panel, “We dare you to crack an egg over your head.” He bit his lip to keep from smiling too broadly.

Raven groaned. “Have I mentioned that I hate all of you?” she grumbled. “My hair looked so good today, too.”

Monty returned from the kitchen, the egg cradled in his hands. The rest of the group roared in approval, pumping their fists in the air. She lifted her hands to her hair. It hung in a long, wavy ponytail down her back. The corners of her mouth curved downward. She spat a curse.

“I should have chosen Truth,” she wailed.

“No, no,” Emori chimed, laughing. “Too late for that. You chose Dare, now it’s time to accept your fate.”

Monty knelt in front of Raven and raised his hands higher for her to accept the egg. She curled her lip as she lifted it out of his palm. It was an unusually large egg. The sight of it seemed to register images of her near fate through her mind because she stuck out her tongue at Clarke and told her that she hoped her Dare was worse than Raven’s.  
Clarke shrugged. She was leaning her shoulder against Bellamy, one hand absently reached up to play through the ends of his curly hair. It was a careless, completely unselfconscious motion. Emori caught it on camera. Murphy sidled beside her, chin resting on her shoulder while he looked on in approval.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m surprised they aren’t making me crack an egg on my head.”

“I wouldn’t think you’re too lucky, Princess,” Bellamy said, in a low, quiet voice only for her.

She jerked her head back to look up at him. “What? Do you know something I don’t?” she asked.

Raven squealed as she cracked the egg over her head. The yolk globbed into her hair, followed by the translucent whites. It slopped down her forehead and over her ears.  
The group screeched with ear splitting cheers. Harper cried for a photo, and everyone clustered around Raven. Emori set the camera on timer, then leaped back to join them. The light flashed capturing the moment. While they were close to her, Raven shoved her hands through the slime left behind by the egg and smeared them across the people standing nearest her. Everyone fled, pushing out of her reach.

“Okay, okay,” Bellamy said. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. “Enough. Go wash it out of your hair.”

Raven dug her heels into the carpet. “And miss out on Clarke’s dare? I don’t think so. I plan to enjoy this.” She grinned at Clarke. Bellamy was relieved for it not to be aimed at him for once since the party started. Let Clarke take some of their heat. Their children were slightly out of their control.

Clarke pshawed. “Bring it,” she cooed at the Judge Panel, then kissed the tips of her fingers and blew at them.

Bellamy moved away from her, arms crossed over his chest. She was going to regret doing that, but honestly, he had no desire to save her from it. This was going to be fun.

“Clarke,” Lincoln tipped his head to the side, watching her. She watched him right back. That was the thing with Clarke: Bellamy had never seen her intimidated by anyone or anything. She refused to submit that kind of advantage to anyone. She had one hell of a poker face. “Are you ready for your Dare?”

She combed her fingers through her hair. She’d had to roll the cuffs of Bellamy’s sweater sleeves back to her wrists. It was killing him one brain cell at a time, seeing her in his clothes. It wasn’t like it had never happened before; of course he borrowed her his sweaters and sweatpants. It was just hitting him differently tonight.  
The thunder rumbled outside, in emphasis.

“We Dare you to show us your Browsing History on your phone,” Lincoln said.

Bellamy arched his eyebrow. That was it? How bad could that be?

He glanced amongst the group. Emori clapped her hands over her mouth, holding back her shriek of laughter. Harper gasped, falling back against Monty, who wrapped his arms around her. Even Octavia looked startled, then pleased, then satisfied to the depths of her soul. Behind Clarke, Raven broke down laughing.

“Forget what I said. Cracking an egg over my head is nothing compared to this. Ooh, girl,” she shook her head in sympathy. “I can’t be here to watch this. Actually, yes, I can. Anyone have popcorn? This should be goooood.”

Bellamy finally let his bewildered gaze land on Clarke. Her face had turned pink.

“Really, guys?” she squeaked. “Isn't this a little more intense than Raven's Dare? Have mercy on me.” She quickly glanced at Bellamy, avoided his gaze, and looked away again. It sent a rush through him. The only thing he ever used his phone for was calling or texting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d searched the internet for anything. But Clarke clearly knew she had some incriminating information in her browsing history. The question was, what was it?

“Sorry, Princess, it’s within the guidelines,” Bellamy lifted his hands in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. The corner of his mouth quirked.

She pulled her phone from the sweater pocket, nibbling her bottom lip nervously. “Okay,” she said, “don’t judge me. I don’t even remember the last thing I looked up.” She unlocked her phone and reluctantly pulled up her browsing history. Squeezing her eyes shut, as if it was too embarrassing, she turned the phone around to face them and everyone moved in close to examine the screen.

Bellamy didn’t really know what to expect. Maybe directions or questions about homework. But the list on the screen wasn’t anywhere near as tame.

Raven screamed. “Bob Morley shirtless? Girl.” She shoved her hands in her egg-splattered hair. “Not that I blame you.” She cut a sideways glance at Bellamy. “He has a startling resemblance to Mr. Blake, here, actually.”

Murphy and Jasper high fived each other. 

“How to admit your feelings to your crush,” Monty read. Harper fluffed her fingers through her hair. “Can you give us any pointers on that?” she asked, with a playful shove against Monty.

“Hold on, what’s this?” Octavia shoved Emori out of her way to give a better view of the screen. “Best Friend’s Brother by Victoria Justice?” She whistled.

“Are you done yet?” Clarke whined. She cracked open an eye. Her face was beet red. She also refused to meet Bellamy’s eye. Meanwhile, he was trying to determine which of Clarke’s friends had brothers that she’d admitted to liking. Was this someone they had talked about? They teased each other all the time about liking people, as well as whenever they were dating someone. Playful jabs. Clever little comments. It had always been easy like that between them.

“No way. Scroll down, Lincoln,” Murphy ordered.

Lincoln obligingly scrolled down. Bellamy didn’t want to look. He really didn’t. This was an invasion of her privacy and he respected her more than this, but it felt like a peek into her that she kept hidden from him. Also, she’d lost fair and square. He still felt guilty, though, until his gaze landed on the next item down the list of browsing history and every thought eddied from his brain. He literally felt them implode, obliterated to nothing except this: damn.

The next item on the browsing history was lingerie.

“Ooh!” someone said. Before Bellamy could stop them, they leaned forward and tapped a finger to the screen, and pulled up the lingerie website.

Bellamy stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. He pressed a hand to his chest and splayed his fingers. He was going to have a heart attack.

He could picture Clarke wearing it. It was black and lacy and sexy as hell, covered in miniscule flowers and trailing tendrils.

His eyes darted to Clarke’s face. The first thought, which he felt shamefully curious for, was who did she want to wear that for. The second, slightly less hungry thought, was that she would never dress herself for someone else. She would wear it for her benefit, to manipulate someone. Anyone who saw her in that was the luckiest human being alive. Except they’d probably be deceased seconds after, because no one could be exposed to that level of HOT and live.

“Okay,” Bellamy found his voice, he didn’t know how, and swatted the group back. “I think that more than covers her Dare.” He pressed on the home screen button, closing the window. The image didn’t vanish with it, the way he hoped it would. It remained permanently printed inside his head, in the center of his eye, clouding out everything else.

“Thank you,” Clarke said, shoving the phone in her pocket. “Wow,” she laughed nervously. “I think that was the most anxiety-inducing Dare I’ve ever received in my life. So, thanks for that, you guys. I’m going to go die of embarrassment in the corner now.”

“Hey,” Raven said, “it wasn’t so bad. It could’ve been worse.”

“You’ve got serious taste,” Harper agreed. “You’ll have to send me the link to that website.”

Clarke buried her face in her hands. “Can we please continue the game before I actually die?” she pleaded.

“Sure,” Jasper sanded his hands together.

Bellamy was still in shock, otherwise he would have helped in moving the game along. He wasn’t capable of really anything, at this point, except staring unhelpfully at Clarke and wondering who it was that had caught her eye. 

“Murphy, Bellamy, since you are our Twister champions, you select what we do next,” Jasper said.

Bellamy wanted to do Clarke next. Only, that wasn’t really an option, was it?

Murphy clapped his hands and skipped over to the game box. He stopped halfway there and said, “I know! We haven’t done this in a long time!” He pivoted to face the group. Bellamy was desperately trying to catch Clarke’s eye without looking like he was. But she’d moved to the other side of the room, hiding beside Emori.

“What, Murphy?” Octavia tilted her head.

He grinned at them. “Hide and Seek!”


	5. Hide and Seek or The One Where they Talk about Their Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a game of Hide and Seek, Clarke and Bellamy accidentally share a hiding space. In his bed. Under his blankets. Sexual Tension is exchanged. Feelings are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I love thunderstorms, and also, fluff. Enjoy!

Once they turned off the lights, the house descended into an almost eerie darkness. Since Murphy was the one who picked the game, everyone voted for him to be the seeker. The rest of them fled while he slouched over to the foyer, his face pressed against the door, counting to one hundred.

There was a flurry of movement; people kept running into each other and giggling. There were hissed warnings of “Don’t you dare hide near me,” and “I was here first.”

Bellamy edged away from the others to his bedroom. He wished he knew where Clarke was hiding. They needed to talk. Neither of them had ever been single at the same time before, and it seemed like now was the time when feelings needed to be voiced. He needed to man up and tell Clarke how he felt. The bravery only stayed with him for so long, though. Because every time he considered it, all he could think about was how he’d never been one to make friends easily, and their friendship was one of the things he treasured most in his life. After Octavia, there was no one else more important to him than Clarke.

He eased past the door of his bedroom over to his bed.

“Great minds think alike,” Clarke whispered in the dark. Bellamy nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Float me, Clarke, give a man warning first.” For the second time that night, he narrowly avoided a heart attack. It didn’t escape him that both times were her fault.

“Where are you?” He scanned the room, but the darkness was even more complete in here, and it was difficult to distinguish his own hands stretched out in front of him to make sure he didn’t run into anything.

There was a guilty pause before she answered, “In your bed.”

He smiled. “I should have known. You’ve been thinking about it this whole time, haven’t you?” He felt his way over to the bed and climbed up the covers. Clarke yelped slightly when he touched her arm.

“Quiet,” he said, laughing under his breath. 

“Ready or not, here I come,” Murphy sang.

“Quick,” Clarke said. “Get down. I am not having you give away my hiding spot. Here.” She lifted the edge of the blankets for him. Seeing that there was no alternative option more attractive than being in his bed with Clarke, he snuggled down beneath the sheets and wiggled closer until they were nose to nose and could talk in the faintest of whispers to avoid Murphy’s detection.

“How was your day?” Bellamy asked. He hadn’t asked earlier, but he could tell she was more tired than usual. Her classes were draining the energy from her, but it was a matter of pride for her to be at the top of her courses. He was so proud of her strength, her determination to do her best, no matter what. Hesitantly, he reached over to skim his fingertips down the side of her face. Her blonde hair was fanned against her cheek and forehead. He gently combed them back from her skin, down her neck. Clarke made an approving sound in the back of her throat and shifted nearer to him, one of her legs lifting to stretch across and over the side of his calf.

“Grueling,” she said, “but I keep reminding myself that I’m almost done, and it will be worth it, all those exhausting hours, in the end.”

“I’m so proud of you, Clarke,” he said. His fingers drifted from the nape of her neck to her jaw, and he traced them along its edge, massaging up to her temple and pushing his fingers deeply through her hair until they tangled in it. She sighed with pleasure, pleased as a kitten to be petted.

“Thanks, Bellamy.”

They were quiet for a moment, listening as Murphy discovered Octavia’s hiding place. She howled in outrage at having been uncovered first, and then promptly revealed where Monty and Harper were hiding.

“You never did tell me what you guys were talking about earlier. I can tell you’re still thinking about it.” She ran her foot up the length of his leg to his waist and pushed him closer to her, until their bodies were flush against each other. Reaching forward, she let her hands slide across his stomach (he flinched at first at the unexpected touch, then relaxed into it) and then around him. She gripped his shoulder blades, fixing their bodies so close together that he could feel her every curve and muscle.

Bellamy released a ragged breath. “You didn’t tell me you liked someone new,” he said, instead. He bumped his nose against hers. “Is it anyone I know?” 

He let both of his hands stroke down her arms and over her side until they found her waist and fit her more conveniently against him. He could fall asleep like this, he decided. He’d never been more comfortable in his entire life. Yet, at the same time, every particle of his body was on high alert, hyper-focused on Clarke.

She turned her head slightly, nuzzling into his jaw. He tensed, fighting a groan when she rubbed her chin against his stubble. “Bellamy,” she whispered. “Do you ever think about how unconventional our relationship is?”

He huffed a laugh against her skin. Her mouth brushed his face with every word and it was sending electrical currents through his body. 

The rain pelted harder against the windows, drowning out the rest of the world, until it felt like the entire universe was erased, leaving only them in this moment, twined together. 

“I try not to,” he admitted.

“It scares me sometimes how important you are to me,” she continued. “And I think to myself, what will I do when you get serious with someone? When you decide to get married? When you move away? Friends drift apart.”

Bellamy’s hands tightened around her.

“Found you!” Murphy shrieked, so loudly the two of them jumped. Before they realized it was out in the hall and not in the bedroom with them, Clarke had plastered herself against Bellamy, both arms and legs laced around him. He snickered as she rolled the two of them over, so he was on top, to protect her from the nonexistent danger. Or to make sure Murphy found him first, ergo letting Clarke beat him in the game of Hide and Seek. Bellamy knew her; he could read it in her eyes, even in the darkness. He laughed and she smothered a hand over his mouth. 

“Quiet,” she said, although now she was laughing, too.

“I don’t want to think about growing apart from you,” Bellamy said, once Murphy had moved to a different part of the house, trailed by the unhappy hiders who’d been found. “I don’t want to consider a future that doesn’t involve you.”

Clarke inclined her lips to his ear. “I have a confession to make, Bellamy Blake,” she said at last.

“What?” he said, in the same hushed, reverential tone.

“I have no intention of letting you win this round, too,” she said.

Bellamy didn’t really have a chance to stop her – to predict her movement. She ducked beneath the covers, sliding down his body, and then she dragged his shirt up, exposing his stomach, and for a brain-melting, heart exploding moment Bellamy thought maybe she wanted to be more than friends. Then she planted her mouth on his abs and blew a loud, blubbering squelch against his skin.

He exploded in laughter, rolling away from her. “Princess! Clarke!”

She scrambled after him, tickling her fingers across his sides and arms and feet until he flipped right over the edge of the bed, and by then, Murphy had reached them. He flicked on the lights, blinking at the sight of Bellamy folded over himself, upside down, swathed in blankets on the floor, and Clarke on her hands and knees, peering over the edge of the mattress at him.

Murphy gave a note of disgust. “Did you even attempt to hide?” he asked them. “That wasn’t even a challenge.” He turned and left the room.

Bellamy aimed an accusing finger at Clarke. “That’s cheating,” he cried.

She shrugged her shoulders, the hoodie of the sweater falling against the back of her head as she leaned down to look at him. “So is tickling while playing Twister. This is just revenge,” she told him.

“I hate you,” he said, grinning.

“Aw,” she said, “I know you love me more than you can stand. It’s okay, because I love you, too, you bastard.”

Bellamy hunched forward, catching her wrists, and yanking her over the side of the bed on top of the heap of blankets beside him.

“They’re going to get ideas if they come in and see us like this,” she said, nestling down against them.

Bellamy looked at her, at the feathered tips of her eyelashes, the subtle rings under her eyes, the freckle above her lip, the rosy rounds of her cheeks.

“Princess,” he said, unable to control his smile, “The very idea of them getting ideas!” He hovered a hand over his mouth, as though he was scandalized by the thought. She snickered.

“You’re an idiot, Bellamy Blake,” she said, shaking her head.

He touched his fingers to her cheek. “But I’m your idiot, Clarke Griffin.”


	6. Have Your Cake and Eat it, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the games they've played, the group gets the munchies and raids the kitchen for food. Clarke gets artistic with the cake. Bellamy retaliates.

It wasn’t a conscious decision; all the hiders who had been discovered by Murphy migrated to the kitchen. It was past midnight, already, somehow, and everyone was rediscovering their appetites.

Octavia stood at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs. She offered them to everyone within radius, to which they’d give a tentative peek in the pan and then hastily decline. She was still learning how to make her eggs look edible and failing, despite Lincoln’s insistent efforts. He leaned against the counter beside her, playing with the strands of her hair and braiding elaborate plaits into them.

Harper and Monty were at the table, eating slices of Clarke’s lasagna. Bellamy helped himself to a plate of lasagna, too, and sat down beside Monty. Harper had heated it in the oven, so the Bellamy’s first bite was hot, melty and delicious. He groaned.

“This is amazing, Clarke,” he said, “I don’t know how you make it this good.”

“That’s easy,” she said. She peeked around the edge of the open refrigerator door to wink at him. “There’s love in every bite.”

He crossed his eyes at her. She snickered, retrieving a pan of cake and laying it on the counter.

“Ooh,” Lincoln said, crowding up behind her. “I’ll have some of that.”

Clarke dished the two of them generous slices and they carried their plates to the table. She sat down beside Bellamy. She lifted her feet to his lap and crossed her ankles over his thighs. He rubbed the soles of her feet while he ate.

The rest of the group slowly wandered into the kitchen, followed by a beaming Murphy. “I totally smoked all of you,” he announced. 

“Wait,” Clarke lifted her fork and counted out everyone. “No, you didn’t.” She jabbed the fork in his direction. “Where’s Emori?” she arched her eyebrows at him.

Murphy’s eyes went round. “Son of a -” he scrambled around the corner.

Emori rose from her crouch behind the island and high fived Clarke. “That’ll keep him busy for a while,” she said, sliding into the seat next to Clarke. “He loves games like this. And I love winning.”

The storm was gradually easing up outside. The wailing of the wind lessened to a soft murmur; the rain no longer pounded against the windows. 

Bellamy pushed his plate aside and brought his other hand to Clarke’s feet, massaging them where they were still crossed in his lap. She smiled at him.

“That feels so wonderful,” she said, eyes half closed. “Honestly, if you keep doing that, I’m going to fall asleep right here.”

His hands trailed up her leg, pushing the fabric up over her calf so he could touch her skin.

“Emori!” Murphy leaped across the room to tackle his girlfriend. “Were you here the whole time?!”

“Babe,” she said, “of course not. I just got tired of waiting for you to find me.” 

He flicked the tip of her nose.

Bellamy looked away, smiling. His eyes met Clarke’s. She offered him a bite of her cake. In response, he opened his mouth and leaned forward. At the last second, he realized it was a trap, but by then she had a handful of cake in her other hand and she was smashing it against his temple and cheek and nose, smearing the frosting across his face like war paint.

Bellamy leaped, springing to his feet. Clarke jumped up, too, grabbing more fistfuls of cake before he could.

On the other side of the kitchen, Octavia lifted her hands. “Guys, don’t even think about starting a food fight. It’s for eating.”

Bellamy lifted his eyebrow. “Princess?” he said, offering her this chance to step down before she started something she wouldn't be able to finish.

With a gleeful shriek, Clarke flung herself at him and spread the cake across his shirt and neck, painted it down his arms. He skittered around the table, weaving in and out of his friends, but Clarke moved with him and grabbed him around the waist before he could reach the cake pan on the counter. She wrestled him sideways, into the refrigerator, and fixed him there with a hand to his lower stomach. Their eyes met. A pleasant buzzing sensation spread through him and he sank down to her height. He wanted to splay himself across her every limb, to grind her into every part of his body.

Her eyes sparkled, as though she was challenging him to do it in front of all of them. I dare you, she said, without saying anything at all. For half a heartbeat, he considered it, and then she was mashing more handfuls of cake into his face. He howled. Catching her by the wrists, he spun them around so she was the one cornered against the refrigerator. 

Bellamy didn’t want to risk her fleeing to safety, so he couldn't remove his hands from around hers to grab more cake. Instead, he stooped and scrubbed the frosting and cake heartily applied to his face, against her cheeks, nose and forehead.

Clarke squealed. “No, Bellamy, no! Bellamy Blake, you stop that right now!” The threat was empty. She couldn’t stop laughing. She was helpless – weak - with it, sinking against him, sliding down to the floor, and because he was winning, because he was still holding her, he sank with her, until they were rolling across the floor, smearing cake into each other and licking it off of each other’s cheeks.

“Food fight!” Jasper announced.

“I don’t think so,” Octavia said. “Everyone out of the kitchen. For goodness sake, Bell, get off the floor. You’re making a mess!” 

“Yeah,” Clarke chimed in. She held his face between her hands.

He lifted himself away from her a fraction, not so much she could wiggle out from beneath him, but enough that he could really look at her face, see how plastered in baked goods she was. She was a baked good. He licked the frosting from his lips and wished he could do the same with her mouth.

“Me?” he said, “You started it. Troublemaker.”

Her fingers tightened on his jaw, possessive. A strange light flickered through her blue eyes.

“Ew,” Octavia said. She grabbed Bellamy by the back of his shirt and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. “Both of you.” She wrinkled her nose. “No food fights, not in this house. Go wash off that cake before the others get any ideas.”

Clarke jumped against Bellamy’s back and hefted herself onto his hips. He caught her legs, and hoisted her into a piggyback position. The rest of the group whooped at them as they passed on their way to the bathroom. Clarke raised one arm over her head, pretending like Bellamy was a bucking bronco trying to unseat her.

They closed the bathroom door behind them. Clarke slid down from his back while he rooted through the cabinet for some towels to help wash off the mess. He tossed her one. 

“I can’t believe you incited Octavia’s responsible side,” he said, laughing. “She’s so pissed. You almost started a war, back there,” he added, pointing a finger at her. Clarke rolled her eyes and placed the towels on the sink.

“Please. You were asking for it.” She crossed her arms.

“Was I?” He planted his hands on his waist. “How? Last I recall, you’re the one who asked if I wanted cake.”

Bellamy paused, losing his train of thought. The way she was looking at him electrified the atmosphere. She didn’t even look as though she was following the conversation. She was just watching him, calculating his every move, scrutinizing him up and down with a hunger he almost couldn’t believe was real. She blinked, and it looked like whatever out of body experience she’d just had, ended. Her cheeks reddened slightly and she lifted her hands to her hair, pushing it off her forehead. She released a shaky breath, then cleared her throat.

Was he making her nervous? 

He cocked his head.

“So,” she said, “how should we do this? What’s the best way to...Bellamy. What are you doing?” she asked.

He was experimenting. His crush on Clarke had always felt one sided, before. But the way she was looking at him was not the way friends looked at each other. He felt taken apart and put back together by her gaze. So he peeled his cake-covered shirt over his head and tossed it in the laundry hamper in the corner.

Clarke inhaled sharply. Her eyes carved down his chest to his low slung pants. He watched her swallow, and the satisfaction was almost enough to make him close his eyes, to make him want to bask in the moment.

He thought about earlier, during her Dare, when she’d revealed her phone search to them. The lingerie. Sophisticated and floral. The music she’d been listening to. The actor who resembled him. The excuses she found to touch him, to be close to him. How she’d been hiding in his bed. How every touch fueled the unquenchable fire burning inside him.

Don’t make assumptions, he told himself. He tried to shake the desire away. This is hardly the time or place, he thought. You’re friends. You don’t want to ruin that. She’s the best part of your life. You’ll never meet anyone else like her.

He moved back from her slightly, toward the shower. His mouth opened to tell her the plan, because if there was a plan, something concrete to follow, it would be easier to deny himself this opportunity of getting close to her. It would be easier to pretend this irrepressible attraction didn’t exist.

But Clarke released a breath and it was static in the bathroom that suddenly felt too cramped for the two of them. She crashed into him.


	7. Kiss, Kiss - Fall in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke have a heart to heart...and a mouth to mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone,
> 
> At last we've reached the end, LOL! It's been a while since I had so much fun writing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and for all your wonderful comments. It means the world to me. 
> 
> <3

“Sorry,” Clarke said. “I tripped.” Her fingers pressed against his biceps. Bellamy stared at her blankly. Oh. He’d misinterpreted. Honestly, he couldn’t comprehend this girl. He started to pull back from her, already saying that it was all right; he’d always be there to catch her. That was the way their relationship worked, after all.

Clarke grinned, and continued. “On you. I tripped on you, Bell, somewhere along the lines of our friendship, and no matter what I do, I just...keep...falling.” She rose on her tiptoes, her fingers crawling up his arms to his neck. She held him gently in her hands, guiding his face lower, closer to hers. Sparks sang against his skin where the pads of her fingers pressed close.

Fire alarms rang through Bellamy’s mind. He closed his eyes, terrified that he was dreaming. That he would wake up and find them back on their respective sides of the boundary line. He released a soft whine.

“I can’t help but feel like we’re meant to be more than friends,” she said.

Bellamy’s hands jumped to her hips and lifted her against him. Her feet dangled above the ground. But he couldn’t open his eyes yet. He was terrified of the continuation, of whatever might come next. This was what always held him back from revealing his feelings. The possibility that they wouldn't work. The utter terror that he could lose her.

“I love you, Bellamy Blake,” she said. She laughed a little, as if she couldn’t believe she was finally saying it out loud. “Look.” She stroked her thumbs against his cheeks, and he opened his eyes to look at her. The sight of her stole the breath from his lungs. She was gorgeous in a way he’d never been able to comprehend. It was everything at once: the depth and knowledge in her eyes, the arch and pucker of her lips; the tangled blonde hair; the way her brain worked; the methods with which she tried to seduce people. He loved every bit and piece of her in a way that was uniquely Clarke. 

“It’s like this,” she said. “I like you. All of you. Every part of you. And I don’t want to share. I want to play for keeps. I want you like this.”

Her mouth touched the edge of his jaw in the softest marshmallow of a kiss. He shuddered a breath. They’d been here, before. They kissed each other’s cheeks and foreheads. Held hands. Snuggled. It was just one of their things. Like hugging. So it was hard for him to believe she wanted him deeper than that, like she was saying. But his arms tightened around her anyway.

She kissed along his jaw to his mouth. Her eyes darted to his, flashing with desire, waiting for him to protest, to tell her to stop, but if she thought he would ever willingly do that, then she was in for a reality check. He never wanted her to stop.

Their mouths met.

She tasted like frosting, like luxury and sugar and birthdays. One of his hands rose from her waist to comb through her hair. He lowered her to the floor and hunched after her, shifting to deepen the kiss, wanting to take his time but also wanting to taste all of her at once.

Clarke grabbed him by the belt loops of his pants and tugged him with her as she edged backward, toward the shower. Her mouth broke from his as she gasped for air. He kissed her chin and bent to catch the swallow of her throat, biting and sucking along the line of her collarbone. His hands were frantic for her: they slid up under her sweater to worship the length of her spine.

Clarke released a sound he’d never heard before, but one he immediately committed to memory. He loved it. It sounded like she was unravelling, and he wanted to see just how far he could make her become undone. He lifted his mouth from her shoulder and straightened to pepper kisses across her face. She giggled, tangling the fingers of her free hand in his hair.

“I love you,” she told him, stepping over the edge of the shower. He followed behind her, then promptly shoved her up against the side of the shower wall.

“I love you, too, Clarke Griffin,” he said, a dimpled grin breaking across his face.

She arched up to kiss him again. Oh! It was so much better than he’d ever imagined it would be. All this time they’d spent friends when they could have had this. He sucked on her lower lip and her hands traced the muscles of his stomach.

They teetered sideways, closer to the showerhead. One of Clarke’s hands pulled away from him and he chuffed at her, missing the heat of it. She laughed. 

“So needy,” she said. 

Then she turned the shower on and sprayed him in the face. He ducked away from it and swiveled them so Clarke was the one getting wet. He scrubbed the remaining bits of cake and frosting from her face and hair. Water drops sparkled as they dripped from her eyelashes. He bowed close to her to kiss them away from her cheeks.  
She giggled. With her fingers splayed against his cheek, she pushed him away. 

“Bend down,” she ordered.

Giddy with love for this girl, he obeyed. She massaged soap through his hair, laughing again as it bubbled beneath her fingers, and then she washed it away, her hands following the streaming bubbles and water over his shoulders, down his back, across his chest and stomach. She smirked when his skin jumped under her fingers.

“Did you really get that lingerie?” he asked.

She shimmied a bit, triumphant, endlessly happy. “Is that what you’re fixating on?” she said. “Of course I did. What would you say if I am actually wearing it right now?”

His mouth dropped. 

“I’m not,” she said, deliciously pleased at his reaction, bouncing up on her tiptoes to kiss down the line of his nose, the dip of his upper lip, his mouth, the cleft of his chin. “But I will be. Soon. In case you needed an incentive.”

Bellamy wrapped his arms around her so tightly she would never be able to escape them.

“You really want to do this? You want me?” 

He was having a hard time believing it. It was one thing to pine after your best friend for years. It was another thing to realize the two of them had been wanting the same thing the whole time. But maybe they needed to go through the wait to realize how much they meant to each other. Maybe they needed to struggle through the bad relationships, the heart aches, to understand what really mattered and what sort of trials they would have to go through if they wanted to make this work.

And Bellamy wanted it to work more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. Looking down at Clarke, it was easy to see she was willing to give this a chance with him.

She nodded, in response to his question. “I do,” she said. “Do you? You want to try this? Even if it gets messy?”

Bellamy kissed her again. Every touch and laugh and whimper emboldened him more. It felt so natural to be this close to her. It was everything he’d been missing from his life.

“Especially if it gets messy. I think that’s our specialty,” he said, eyes twinkling.

She kissed him again.

"How long do you think we'll be able to hide out in here?" she asked, later.

Bellamy shook his head. "I'm actually surprised they haven't pounded on the door yet asking what's taking so long. We should get out. Probably."

Clarke looped her arms around his neck. "Or not. We can be responsible adults later," she suggested.

"Have I ever told you I love the way you think?" he said.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Once or twice. But you can always say it again. I don't mind." His head dropped, trying to catch the movement against his lips and tongue.

"Have I ever told you that you're...oh! Bellamy!" Her fingers threaded through his hair. "Really, really good at that?"

He lifted his face back to hers and bumped their noses together. "Once or twice," he said, echoing what she'd just said. "But I don't mind if you tell me again."


End file.
